Layla

by Claire Marta

  Eventually, her body stops shaking and she comes down from the haze she was in. I can feel it in the way her muscles tense before forcibly relaxing.

  “Still okay?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good, let’s go downstairs.”

  Layla stands on shaky feet and I wrap an arm around her waist to keep her steady. Once downstairs I lead her to the sitting room. “There’s something we need to do before breakfast.”

  “What?”

  I give her a look and she blanches.

  “What, sir?”

  “I need to discipline you.”

  “I-I thought...upstairs.”

  “Upstairs was your punishment for disobeying a rule I gave you. Since it seems you cannot follow the rules I have decided that a bit of domestic discipline will be added to your training. It only took you less than a day to start breaking the rules. You need to learn what I will and will not tolerate. Deliberately disobeying me just because you feel like it will not be tolerated.”

  “But…”

  “Hush.”

  Sitting on the sofa I pat my lap, “Come, face down, brace yourself as best you can.”

  “What are you planning on doing?”

  “Shall I add more strikes to your tally? You are now my submissive, Layla. You will come when I give you an order. This is for your own good.”

  I can see the uncertainty on her face, but luckily for her, she knows better than to push me.

  Stretching herself out across my lap, her beautiful ass is right there for the taking. If only this was a time to play and not a necessary duty.

  “Every time you come to be trained we will start with this.” I say.

  “And what is this?” She asks in a small voice.

  “This is discipline,” I tell her. “A dozen strikes for your first time. I can be negotiated down for the future, however, if you’re good. You remember your safe word?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good, use it if you need to.”

  I settle my left arm across her legs, getting a firm grip. With my other hand, I gently run my fingers across the small of her back and down over the curve of her ass.

  She trembles, “shh, this is for your own good. You’ll see.”

  Without any preamble, I raise my hand and bring it down on her backside, hard. Layla lets out a breath, but that’s the only recovery period she gets.

  With perfected accuracy, I hit her over and over again, covering both cheeks. I don’t change my strikes, each smack of my hand on her flesh is firm.

  Layla cries out the first few times, but eventually, the pain is great enough that she can’t catch her breath.

  This isn’t a spanking meant to bring pleasure, it’s pure discipline. If she behaves, maybe one day I’ll show her how sexy spankings can be. Though I think that day is a long way off.

  On the twelfth strike, I stop and gently run my open palm on her red ass. “Shh, it’s over for today. You’re okay. It’s all over now.”

  I continue reassuring her as she catches her breath and starts to cry.

  Layla

  Shifting uncomfortably, the cheeks of my ass throb against the seat of my chair. I still can’t believe Thomas spanked me like a misbehaving child. My tears had damped the thigh of his jeans. Each slap of his palm had made me cry harder. Afterwards he’d held me close and comforted me in the haven of his arms. For a moment all I’d wanted him to do was slip his finger between my legs and give me pleasure. It had left me an emotional mess.

  “Stop playing with it and eat it.” Thomas commands sternly.

  Attention snapping from my thoughts, the fork in my hands idly pushes the pieces of fruit around my plate. “May I please get dressed now, sir?”

  “No. I prefer you naked. You’ll wear clothes when I feel it's appropriate.”

  Keeping my gaze on my plate, I spear a piece of melon before popping it between my lips. It had been embarrassing enough to have his bland faced housekeeper serve us breakfast while I’m still nude, spending the whole day like this makes me nervous.

  Does he plan more punishments?

  My pulsing cheeks against the cushion on the chair has me sighing glumly. “I really need to get back to my apartment. I have studying to do.”

  Thomas cocks his head in my direction as he lifts his cup of tea. “I remember our discussion. Sundays are the day you study and cook. As far as you lead me to believe Saturdays are free.”

  It’s true but I was hoping he’d forget.

  Not meeting his intense stare, I fiddle with the handle of my fork. “I should still check on my apartment. Make sure my tank is still running properly and relax my tail.”

  “I will require the specifications of the tank you use and gallons of water needed to fill it.”

  Confused by his question I frown. “Why?”

  Sipping his tea slowly, he regards me thoughtfully over the rim taking his time before replying. “I’d rather not have days and evenings wasted because you need to swim. My home is big enough to house what you need. Even bigger if that appeals. It will be interesting to watch you while you play.”

  Shock renders me speechless for a second. “You want to set up a tank here?”

  “Yes. I don’t see why not. It will be there when you need it. I presume you're not adverse to fish?”

  “No...I have fish in the one I have at home.” I tell him still a little stunned. “Tropical fish.”

  Placing his cup on the table, he refills it from the pot, the scent of tea wafting around us. “It’s settled then. You may return home after breakfast. You will do your studying today and I expect you back here tomorrow morning. As of now, I am officially your Dom. You may sleep at your place twice a week, but the rest of the week you will do so here. As you’ve proved you can’t be trusted not to touch yourself, I will need to be firm and strict with you until you are capable of following my rules.”

  My cheeks heat at his sharp authoritative tone. “I just can’t help myself…I like it.”

  “You will learn to restrain yourself. Finish your breakfast and you may be excused.”

  Finishing off my bowl of fruit I leave Thomas at the table reading on his iPad. Upstairs in the master bedroom, I find my clothes and dress quickly.

  Finding a hair band in my shoulder bag, I braid my long green hair before securing it.

  “You’ll learn to restrain yourself.” I mimic Thomas’s deep tone scowling as I do.

  I might be a virgin but I like orgasms.

  As he hasn’t given me any so far why shouldn’t I balance out his punishments with some fun of my own? Knowing my luck he’s not planning to do anything I like anyway. So far I haven’t seen any evidence he’s a sadist when he’s scening but that doesn’t mean he’s not. Goddess, I hope I haven’t made a mistake agreeing to this.

  The housekeeper is waiting for me when I head back downstairs. She informs me a taxi is out front to usher me to my apartment, the bill already paid. There’s no sign of my new Dom. Wrinkling my nose at the dip of disappointment, I thank her and leave.

  I’m happy to be escaping for a while. I need some space. Normality. He’s thrown me in at the deep end and I feel like I have to sink or swim. My legs are already tingling and I can sense the call of the water. Once I’m home I intend to have a long uninterrupted soak.

  By the time we reach my street I feel more relaxed. Thanking the taxi driver, I make a quick trip to the supermarket. With my purchases filling my arms in two paper bags, I enter my building, cross the dingy foyer and into the elevator. Music radiates from one of the closed doors as I step out, moving along the narrow hall.

  My neighbors keep to themselves. Though I have plenty of locks on my doors, which make my feel safe and secure. It’s not the most ideal place to live, but with most of my money going into savings, the funds I have left are barely enough for the rent.

  Balancing one of the bags on my raised knee, I search for my keys in my shoulder bag. It’s a short frustrating battle, my fingers rummag
ing around until they close over the cold metal. With a small sound of success, I get the door unlocked quickly.

  Kicking the door to my apartment closed as I enter, I haul the bags I’m holding into the tiny kitchen. There’s barely enough room for one person but I don’t mind.

  After this morning I deserve an extra big box of sushi. My backside can still feel the imprint of Thomas’s hand.

  Unpacking quickly, I fold up the bags adding them to my recycling bins. Since moving onto the land I’m always careful not to litter. With plastic choking the oceans it makes my heart hurt with all the sealife that’s died unnecessarily because of mankind's ignorance and greed.

  Kicking off my shoes, I carry the large rectangular container into the living room and snatch up the TV remote on the second hand coffee table. Stacked books clutter the lumpy sofa. Pens are scattered over the surface of the lower table on top of my note pads.

  “Hey guys, I’m home.” I call, glancing at the enormous fish tank that takes up most of my living room.

  Swimming towards the glass, the colorful occupants within greet me.

  “I had to spend the night at Thomas’s again. Apparently I’m expected to spend most of my nights there.” I roll my eyes in annoyance. “I didn’t realize he was going to be so demanding.”

  Surfing through channels, I settle on their favorite one. A reality TV show set on a deserted island. “Damn we missed an episode. I wonder if Brad went with Chanelle or if he’s hooked up with that fun loving Megan?” My butt sinks into the cushions as I find a space on the sofa.

  The fish swim in a shoal at the sound of my voice. Their colorful bodies shimmering in the light, mouths bobbing open and closed.

  Popping the lid off my food, I unscrew the mini bottle of soy sauce, squeezing it into the tray. I only feel a twinge of guilt I’ll be eating sushi in front of them. But it’s my favorite and after all, if I lived in the ocean I’d be hunting my own. Thank the goddess for restaurants and supermarkets.

  A knock on the door interrupts me as I’m the process of popping the first piece into my mouth. Chewing it quickly, I clean my hands on a napkin.

  “Who the heck can that be?” I grumble at my fishy friends. Rising from my seat I hurry for the door.

  Peering through the peephole, I find a delivery man smiling at me from the other side. “I have flowers for a Miss. Layla Marks.”

  Flowers?

  Unlatching the door, I pull it open to accept the long, wide, rectangular black box. I thank the man before closing the door. Carrying the box to the sofa I examine it. It looks expensive. Satin ribbons keep it sealed.

  Thomas?

  The thought of him sending me a gift softens my feelings toward him. Okay, so maybe he isn’t that bad. A broody asshole, yes, but maybe there’s something sweet under all that reptilian superiority.

  Laying it on the coffee table, I untie the bows and ease off the lid. I can’t hold in the gasp as my eyes rove over the soft red petals of the dozen roses still kissed with droplets of dew. Searching for a label or card I find nothing to provide the identity of the sender.

  I’ve never had flowers sent to me before.

  No gifts at all.

  Smiling like an idiot, I rush into the kitchen to find something to use as a vase. A glass pitcher is all I have in my cupboards, but it will do. Filling it half way up with water, I bring it with me into the living room. Avoiding the thorns, I lift the first two placing them in their new home. Three more and I become aware of the deep red staining my fingers.

  Dye?

  Cautiously, I move a few more to the side. The bed of midnight black crate paper they’re nestled in feels sticky. A sick sense of foreboding churns in my stomach. Part of me doesn’t want to know what lies beneath, but a stronger, more perverse side wants an answer.

  Holding my breath, I tug the paper free from one side, revealing the object below.

  A bleeding heart.

  Thomas

  “Do you need anything else, sir?” Carol asks as she sets the mail down on my desk.

  “Is Layla finished with breakfast?” I ask.

  When I came up to my study she was glaring at her plate of turkey bacon. Unfortunately for her I am not budging on this.

  “If so, send her up here. It’s time for her discipline.”

  “Yes, sir.” Carol leaves and I settle back in my desk chair.

  There’s a brown box that can only be one thing. I can’t help the smirk that crosses my lips when I think about giving Layla her surprise.

  I’m sure she’s going to be scandalized, my sweet, innocent nymph. Even working at the club wouldn’t have prepared her for what I have up my sleeves.

  There’s a knock on the study door before Layla enters. All her beautiful flesh on display. It’s a pity I can’t play with her. I’m anticipating the day when I don’t have to worry that she’s going to disobey my rules and I can reward her all I want. Or not.

  “Come here, Layla.” I tell her as she hovers in the threshold.

  Since she arrived yesterday morning she’s been off. She refuses to talk and I’m not a mind reader, unfortunately I can’t punish her for not talking to me. I almost wish she’d try to lie about it so I can do something. But so far she’s been upfront about feeling off, just that she’s not ready to discuss it.

  It’s irritating.

  Slowly, she crosses the room and kneels down by my desk. She’d be in the perfect submissive pose, head down, hands resting palm up on her thighs, if it weren’t for the tension I can see running through her. She should be relaxed but she’s clearly not.

  “Are you going to discipline me, Master?” Her voice is meek and I frown. What the hell happened Saturday evening after I sent her home?

  “Not yet, I have a gift for you.”

  Her head shoots up, breaking protocol, that earns her an extra strike when I spank her.

  “A-a gift? You...you got me a gift? But why? I mean...you were already so generous with the flowers...which are pretty, for dead plants...but I-I don’t think I can handle another one of your gifts.”

  “What are you on about now, girl? I haven’t sent you anything. What ever gave you that idea?”

  She squirms under my scrutiny. “The...the roses.”

  “What roses? I haven’t sent you a damn thing, and if I did it sure as hell wouldn’t be roses. So cheesy and cliché.”

  “You didn’t send them? But…”

  “But someone did. There wasn’t a card?”

  She shakes her head.

  “You have acquired a secret admirer then? Is that why you’ve been acting like a basket case?”

  “Yes,” she whispers.

  I don’t correct her slip because I am much more concerned with this new information. While odd, I don’t see how some pesky flowers would get under her skin so much. It’s obvious there’s something she’s not telling me.

  “Have you received any other mysterious gifts?”

  She hesitates before finally shaking her head no. I narrow my eyes, she’s so full of tension her body is practically vibrating with it.

  “Are you sure? Lie to me again and I’ll give you fifteen strikes.”

  Layla stares at the floor as she answers. “There was something else...but it’s private. Please, Master. I’m being honest.”

  I stare at her, but I can’t see her face through her curtain of hair. “Very well,” I reply. “You know I’m here to listen when you’re ready to divulge.

  “Do not keep things from me again, this is your only pass.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Now, sit up and open your gift.”

  Layla relaxes a bit into the proper stance and I hand her the box. You have to love two day shipping, thanks to that, I can make sure my submissive behaves like she should while we’re both working tonight.

  I pass a pair of scissors over so she can cut through the tape then lean back and watch for her reaction.

  She pulls the chastity belt out and holds it up. Her face pales as she
holds the piece of leather and steel in her hands. It’s nothing more than leather with a steel crotch.

  “Do you know what that is?”

  “I have an idea.” She replies, still staring at it. “You don’t really expect me to wear this, do you?”

  “Of course. You have proven that you’re not capable of following the rules. This will help. Stand up.”

  She doesn’t move. “Layla, stand up and come here so I can put on your new toy.”

  “I...I don’t really think this is necessary.”

  “Oh, but it is. Now, stand up and allow me to put it on you, or I will have to punish you.”

  The strain between us is almost palpable. She doesn’t have to do this. She could safe word out now and that’ll be that. But I know that’s not what she wants. No, she wants this, maybe not this exactly, but she wants to be trained as a submissive. She wants to be able to let go and only follow her Master’s orders.

  But is this order too high of a price for her to pay?

  After what seems like an eternity, Layla stands and hands me the chastity belt. “Do I have to, Master? It doesn’t look very comfortable.” There’s a tremble in her voice as she tries to change my mind.

  “I can assure you it was made with comfort in mind. They even gave you a slit in where you can still use the restroom. Other than that, the steel will sit flush against you. I have been assured that no matter how much you try, you won’t be able to get your fingers under there.

  “And, no matter how much you pull, you won’t be able to get out once you’re locked in. It was made by a rather clever witch to withstand all kinds of manipulations.”

  “That’s not very reassuring.” She grumbles.

  “Don’t worry. I’m giving the extra key to Adam, so if it’s an emergency and I’m not around he can help you out. Now come here.”

  Pulling her by the hips I move her between my legs. The belt is almost like a pair of assless underwear, only it ties and locks at the sides.

  The click of the small padlock is ominous. Layla squirms as I go to lock the second side. “Settle, nymph. You’re just fine.”